


Project Black Cat

by ziasann



Series: a world without you [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cat bites and blood, Coffee Shop Dates, Hook-up at first sight, Is there angst?, Kuroo flirting with Science and Kenma flirting back, M/M, Pain, Plot Twists, Professor!Kuroo x Writer!Kenma, Sexual Tension, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziasann/pseuds/ziasann
Summary: Kozume Kenma is the enigmatic transfer student who enrolled in Professor Kuroo Tetsurou's chemistry class for research regarding his novel.Kuroo discovers there's more to his world when Kenma's involved.“They met, it was nice. And I’m stuck because it should have an ending.” Kenma said.“Maybe you should let the childhood friends choose the ending,”
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: a world without you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890631
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	Project Black Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is your cup of tea.

> **_Reboot_ **

**01101001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00100000**

* * *

The stale air of sterile gloves, Pyrex apparatuses, and gossiping students registered in Kuroo’s sense as he entered the science laboratory. As soon as he set his leather bag on the chair, and his lecture book on the sole front desk, the people around hushed in their circles.

“Fancy day today, students?” Kuroo smirked as he checked each student he paired with another when the class first began. All present in their designated workplaces. 

_ 22...23...24…..25? _

The extra table at the end of the room was occupied by a single student. A typical long-haired male who was paying more attention to the sky rather than Kuroo’s nearing footsteps.

“Shiftee? Transfer student?” Kuroo guessed. The blonde averted his sight from the outside world and stared back at him.

Piercing golden eyes. He had to look twice if those were real. Skin pale, body frame thin, could rival the skeletal model at the other science lab. 

“...”

“You don’t seem the type to enter a class like this.” He pointed out, hands gripping his white lab coat. The student wasn’t even wearing one despite the class’s obvious rule and etiquette. He only had a fanny pack in his belt which Kuroo doubt could contain notebooks for the guy to write on. 

“I’m a writer. I took this class for research.”  _ Ah, well, he’s one of those types.  _

“And what is the name of this future author?” Kuroo teased, light pink dusting over those shy cheeks. He hoped it wasn’t his imagination.

“Kozume Kenma.” The guy returned his gaze at the blue sky.  _ Writers, not talkative, right. _

Kuroo clapped his hands as he strutted the room. The students busied themselves with Kuroo’s rapid lecture rather than the transferee. Kuroo reviewed the previous meeting’s discussion which introduced his new topic today: Thermodynamics.

His students were always cheerful and interactive. For an elective subject, his class was composed of students who chose these lessons for their own interests. Those promising geniuses who didn’t take notes as he chalked on the board, and those curious minds unafraid of asking questions, Kuroo was in his comfortable space. There wasn’t much of a generation gap between him and the students, not when he received his degree early on in life.

The aspiring novelist,  _ Kozume _ , was studying the clouds moreover than the professor he paid for.  _ And that’s bad. _ Because Kuroo repurposed himself in each meeting, no student leaves his laboratory without knowledge.

To remedy the situation, Kuroo surprised everyone with a short quiz. Kozume seemed to wake up from his dilly-dallying and pulled out a small paper from his bag.  _ Would you look at that bag, it did have stuff inside. _

As the quick test finished, Kuroo explained the answers and left them with another exercise on the board. He collected the quizzes for additional grades on the records. He was listing the random scores when the final paper revealed a big fat zero.

Kuroo read the name on the top. The aspiring writer was really hopeless in science.

He glanced at said student and almost chilled. Kozume was surveying him, slit-like irises observing his move now that he’s caught.

Kuroo gulped, his other students were engrossed in the work he gave for them to notice the unbreaking gaze. 

Kozume smiled, ever so slightly Kuroo might have missed, then propped his elbow on the desk to catch his mischievous face. The smile was coy, and the wink sent afterward was much more dangerous.

Kuroo abruptly turned to the paper in his hand. He was not certainly losing to an enigmatic, mysterious type of guy. He drew a circle under the zero score, then a plus sign at its left side. The rest of his contact number encoded on the quiz.

When he dismissed the class, the students fled from the laboratory in groups. White coat labs discarded, and as Kuroo’s lucky day, the golden-haired sly was the last to exit.

“You forgot something, Kozume-kun?” Kuroo called, waving out Kozume’s quiz paper. Kozume swiveled, his lithe body graceful as he approached his professor.

“I put the correct answers so you can review it.” He drawled as he passed the paper on. 

Kozume took the slip and read the scribble. Stoic expression even when Kuroo explicitly noted a  _ starbucks, 7 PM, tonight? _

“I guess I’ll check on it tonight.” Kozume hummed, walking away from the teacher’s table after he pocketed the note. So natural, as if professors asking him out was part of the norm.

_ Interesting. _

“And,  _ Sensei? _ ” Kozume stopped by the doorframe of the lab, bleached strands dancing as he bid goodbye.

“Call me Kenma.”

Kuroo was sure-fire his brain wasn’t working for five straight minutes. Not that there was anything straight in his sexuality, but  _ damn those lips, those eyes, and those strands- _

“ _ Meow. _ ”

A stray black cat perched on the classroom’s window. Paw knocked the glass, and jade eyes glowed accusatory at him.

“Oh, fuck you, I’m bringing home another kitten tonight.” 

* * *

> **Configuration**

**01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100**

* * *

Kuroo glanced at the familiar cat beside Starbucks’s main entrance. The cat was peacefully licking its ears when Kuroo shook his head and fixated on his objective.

He swung the glass door wide, periphery searching for the unique blonde-bleached hair. At the corner-most area of the buzzing cafe, a lone man was reading his spiraled notebook. No coffee on his table.

Kuroo strode in, trying not to be obvious as he bought two vanilla cold brews at the cashier, and carried its tray towards the young man he asked on a date. He double-checked the spelling of Kenma’s name on the cup and laid the drinks on the corner table with all the charm he could muster.

“I’m curious what novel you’d be writing to ignore a handsome waiter in front of you.” Kuroo sat on the opposite chair, Kenma finally dropping his book and appraising him head to toe. Kuroo willed himself not to be reddened with the gesture because  _ damn  _ he came ready for this.

“Earlier, you’re my professor. Now, my waiter, you should be an actor.” Kenma rolled his eyes, earning a chuckle from the other.

“Later, you’ll be calling me your lover,” Kuroo said, unabashed, until Kenma neared in proximity, fingers reaching out to sweep his fringe. 

“I suppose…” Kenma murmured, thumb tracing his eyebrow. This close, Kuroo was overwhelmed by how big and attentive Kenma’s eyes were. He never got it from him during the class. He almost felt the ghost of the other’s breath on his face, and Kuroo regretted not wearing his looser pants today at the university. 

_ Okay, that’s quick. _

Kenma was fiddling with his right ear. Like a spell broken, Kenma sighed and closed his eyes as he pulled away. Kuroo clasped the wrist of his own hand to prevent it from touching the place where Kenma last brushed.

Kenma picked up the discarded notebook and wrote on it. Kuroo was peeking when Kenma answered the unspoken query.

“Your ears don’t feel hot.”

Kuroo laughed. This man treated him as a specimen, and he was liking every second of it.

“First law of thermodynamics states that energy can be converted from one form to another with the interaction of heat, work, and internal energy, but it cannot be created nor destroyed, under any circumstances.”

Kenma lifted his head from his journal writing, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  _ Cute.  _

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the energy, or rather the  _ reaction  _ you’re looking for in me is still  _ here. _ ” Kuroo peered at the zipper of his own pants confidently. “Just, y’know,  _ converted. _ ”

“You could’ve explained this better using Newton’s third law,  _ for every action, there is an opposite reaction _ but you’re a nerdy brat.” Kenma retorted. 

_ Aspiring writer knows science! _ Kuroo was even more turned on, and he began to wonder if Kenma’s zero score was a farce. Those beguiling eyes of him seemed to have knowledge deeper than the Marianas trench.

“Nuh-uh, that’s different.” Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows, “Newton’s third law is  _ me doing this. _ ”

Kuroo caught the other’s hand, grazing his lips over those cold fingers like how he wanted to earlier. 

“And  _ you _ , having a certain reaction.” He murmured over those knuckles, his teeth tempted to chew the skin. If only this wasn’t a public place, he might have. Kenma giving him an acute examination did not help too.

Kenma’s reaction was a lilt of a smile that sang trouble. Then the fingers which Kuroo held grazed his bottom lip with its pads. Kuroo did not waste the opportunity of biting said thumb. If Kenma was willing to experiment in public, Kuroo would be a willing test subject.

“Aren’t you quite responsive, then?” Kenma asked.

“Don’t you want to test?” Kuroo challenged.

When Kenma stood up and grabbed his hand, Kuroo followed Kenma’s lead as easy as breathing oxygen and releasing carbon dioxide. Their iced beverages were forgotten on the wooden table, as they slung their bags and exited the cafe, hand in hand. 

Kuroo supposed he could afford more Starbucks drinks in the future if it meant skin-to-skin contact with this adorable, fascinating homo sapien. 

Kenma looked at him again with that same sheer concentration Kuroo might be soon addicted to.

“What are you waiting for?” Kenma tugged at his hand, and he loves how natural their hands fit together. “Lead me to your place.”

Kuroo wasn’t able to fulfill his promise, but he didn’t mind the other way around too.

He didn’t bring home another kitten, the kitten brought him home tonight.

* * *

Kuroo groggily yawned seeing the surroundings still dark, and read the time of his digital clock for confirmation. 

**_10:01 PM_ **

_ Huh _ , they came to his apartment around 8 and the foreplay was certainly longer than two hours. Kuroo rubbed his eyes again and cleared his vision.

**_01:17 AM_ **

“Kuro…” Kenma mumbled from the other side as arms snaked on Kuroo’s waist. He snuggled the petite man back, and kissed the crown of his hair. He may suffer some sting around his spine tomorrow, but he’d happily receive any scratches from his kitten when he can embrace the other man like this in his arms afterwards.

Naturally. Contented.

Each touch and kiss was fluid like their bodies were built for this moment to each other. Strange how nothing felt rushed. Kuroo was surprised with the lack of his usual feeling that everything was  _ quick  _ and  _ passing by.  _

Kenma was an enigma. Kuroo won’t allow for something like that to be  _ quick _ and  _ passing by _ .

* * *

> **Backup**

**01110011 01110100 01100001 01111001 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101001 01110110 01100101**

* * *

Professor Kuroo was anticipating and dreading his elective class simultaneously.

On the positive side, his teaching at the laboratory meant Kenma was present. On the negative side, that meant Kenma will be ignoring his lessons in order to spite him. Kuroo later realized he didn’t mind, since Kenma made up for his lack of attention at their coffee dates in the evenings.

Their first hook up wasn’t seconded, Kuroo wanted to appreciate the slow development of a relationship. He also clarified that what happened won’t be a one night stand, which Kenma fearlessly agreed upon to Kuroo’s astonishment. 

They stay at the corner table of Starbucks, Kenma with his spiraled notebook and Kuroo with his curious getting-to-know questions. The more he knew about the enigmatic student, the more he seemed to acquiesce with  _ yeah, that’s really like him, _ and  _ yeah, that’s something Kenma would do. _

He noticed a few things: Kenma’s hands were always occupied. If he couldn’t write in his notebook, Kenma would drum his fingers along the surface of any near-flat object. Even in their first night, Kenma was touchy from his face to his nape and to his back... _ yeaaaaaah _ , Kuroo should better not recall the thrilling experience if he’d like to avoid his hormones acting up.

Kuroo was sipping his latte when Kenma sighed and put down his journal. Kuroo cocked an eyebrow in question and popped off the straw in his lips when he asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the appropriate ending for the story.” His date was exasperated.

“The two childhood friends right?” Kuroo recalled one of their conversations. “I’m amazed you went so far to take a chemistry class because one of the characters is a science nerd.”

The story was summarized as two children who met when they were young. The other boy just moved in the neighborhood and their parents decided the protagonist and the other boy would be good playmates. Despite the opposite characters, with the protagonist preferring video games and the other liking volleyball, they had a solid friendship which grew until high school.

Only up until high school because the ‘childhood neighbor friend’ died in an accident. 

During the protagonist’s grief and remorse, he was offered by a genie or a fairy godmother (or just those wishing factory archetypes, Kuroo couldn’t remember accurately) to live in a world where his childhood friend was still alive.

“What’s the problem?” Kuroo asked because he was only updated until that event. 

“They met, it was nice. And I’m stuck because it should have an ending.” Kenma said, staring outside through the transparent walls of the cafe. Kuroo copied Kenma and watched as the nimbus clouds colluded to warn of a massive pour down.

“Maybe you should let the childhood friends choose the ending,” Kuroo suggested. Thunder rolled in the skies, electricity reverberating through the air. 

Kenma was still lost in his own world, but the way he pursed his lips meant he heard Kuroo. Kuroo didn’t know where the thought came from but he was weirdly sure of it. 

“So, do you have a title yet?” 

Heavy rain fell from the looming clouds, droplets skidding down the place like 0s and 1s. 

“Black Cat.” Kenma murmured. He collected his stuff and belted his fanny pack, Kuroo also automatically gathering his bag when Kenma explained.

“I have to go.” 

“Oh, okay.” Kuroo was about to offer to walk him home but Kenma was sleek as a cat who evades water at all costs. By the time Kuroo was at the front of the coffee shop, Kenma was no longer in sight.

There was only the rain trickling from the shed and the pompous black cat beside the potted plant. The animal stretched its neck to bore holes in him with its green eyes. 

“Can’t bring home a kitten for a second time, I guess.” 

* * *

> **Updates**

**01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101**

* * *

“Hey hey hey!” 

Kuroo placed his thumb and forefinger under his chin, ogling the silver-spiked hair and golden-eyed boy. Kenma texted him, five minutes before their typical afternoon Starbucks, that he was with a friend. The said friends may pass off as Kenma’s sibling only if their radiated auras weren’t polar opposites. Color dyed hair and topaz tinted eyes.

“ _ Oya _ , Kenma didn’t mention he brought an owl today.” Kuroo grinned, high-fiving the athletic-built guy. With how the man responded, Kuroo didn’t have to worry about scaring off Kenma’s friend. The observation rolled from his mouth without hesitation. 

“This owl has a name and it’s Bokuto Koutarou,” Silver-streaked announced and gestured towards the seat he and Kenma reserved for him. Speaking of Kenma, he only spared the two of them with a glance before jotting down again in his notebook.

He was a bit shocked with the short notice, and maybe with the sudden notion of Kenma having friends. Throughout their long-ass thread of text messages (which consisted of Kuroo flooding cute stickers and Kenma replying late), Kenma hasn’t mentioned anything about friends. 

Yet, Kuroo was also relieved. He didn’t like the thought of Kenma being alone, even when the other seemed perfectly fine with solitude. Writers were like that, enjoying their own silence and company.

Bokuto was a blast, a stark difference of personality from his friend but Kuroo likes him. Their interactions fell easy, like Tetris bricks completing those rows after rows with every exchange they had. Bokuto was loud, and an idiot. The idiot Kuroo can totally match with.

Maybe that’s why Kenma introduced them to each other. The thought of Kenma letting Kuroo in his social circle warmed his heart, even if it’s just an assumption. 

“What’s your current agenda, Bokuto?” He asked, Kenma never joining their conversation. “Studying or working?”

“I’m training to be a professional athlete.” Bokuto beamed, expression mirthful.

“Which sport?”

“Volleyball.” As Bokuto answered, Kenma froze in his writings and dropped the notebook.  _ Ah, writers, and their whiplash of plot ideas.  _

“Volleyball? That’s nice! I was interested in it but being a college professor didn’t have time for it.” Kuroo said. Kenma was tugging Bokuto’s arm, almost pulling the tall man to his height when Bokuto queried.

“Didn’t you play when you were young?”

The background noise of the coffee shop muted as Kuroo searched for his earlier memories. He dug deep in his brain for any childhood recollection of playing the topic sport. Kuroo was sure he had at least one…

Static and pain intruded his head hard and Kuroo didn’t even realize his eyelids were shut tight until there’s a soft hand squeezing his forearm. He enlightened his vision back, and two pairs of yellow-shaded irises scrutinized him whole. Kenma maintained skin contact, which Kuroo found sweet.

“You okay?” Kenma asked. He nodded, then decided to get back on topic.

“Pardon, what were we discussing again?” Kuroo peeped at Bokuto apologetically. 

“Bokuto asked what your hobbies were.” Kenma said, and the dialogues between them cascaded to its original beat and rhythm. Kuroo supposed that’s how things with Kenma always were,  _ natural  _ and  _ effortless _ , like his friend Bokuto too. 

The momentary ache faded from his physique several jokes and puns later, the sky was darkening again but Kuroo swore their time here felt longer and extended. The chemical reaction of love in the brain, maybe.

They were at the front of the coffee shop, Bokuto bidding farewell cheerily. In the spur of the newfound friendship, Bokuto embraced him. Large arms wrapping around his upper torso, tight and warm. There’s wetness in his shoulders and as Kuroo patted Bokuto’s back, he concluded the other man was…crying?

“I...Thank you, Kuroo, for everything. You’re a kind and good soul.” Bokuto hiccuped and pulled away. 

“This is only our first goodbye, we’ll have more goodbyes, y’know, stop crying!” Kuroo laughed, to which Bokuto only cried more.

“Yeah, I h-hope.” 

* * *

  
“Bokuto’s a crybaby.” Kenma excused as they reached the floor of Kuroo’s apartment. Kuroo happily accepted Kenma’s offer of walking him home since he can’t stay over due to other projects.

“I figured.” He smiled as he slotted the key in his keyhole, the black cat on his doormat judging him and Kenma with those slitted irises.

“Didn’t know you have a cat.” Kenma commented. Kuroo’s two kittens had a glaring contest of some sorts before he intervened to prevent a catfight. 

“He sneaks in sometimes,” Kuroo said as he stepped inside his complex. The cat slithering towards the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” 

“Can’t.” 

Kenma tiptoed and interlaced those cold fingers around his nape. Kuroo was chilled from the sensation, but Kenma’s lips on top of his taught him where to redirect his focus. His arms automatically circled along the other’s waist, propping the petite up to deepen the kiss. 

“I miss you.” Kenma murmured, moist lips tickling his. 

“Video call me, then?” Kuroo suggested, Kenma shook his head in defiance.

“Can’t.” 

Kuroo leaned his right side to the doorframe, nothing to be sad about with the rejection. Kenma had his priorities, Kuroo understood.

“See you tomorrow.” 

Kenma stared down at the floor, quite sad. His lips parted to speak but then sealed. When Kenma returned his gaze, there was still hesitance. 

“Kuro...I-” Kenma once again shook his head, “Nevermind. Tomorrow then.”

_ That was cute _ . 

Kuroo waited until Kenma loaded in the elevator safely. Kuroo strode in his apartment, plucking the black cat in the kitchen top as he entered his room. He threw the pet in his bed and jumped in afterward. His hands chasing the black fur ball before it escaped his giggling.

He lied back on his gray comforter, picking up the cat to suspend in the air. Kuroo was careful not to pinch the feline too hard, but he can’t help it. His heart was bursting with norepinephrine. 

“I never thought Kenma could be so clingy! He was touchy from the start, but  _ his kisses?  _ Wow! Like he really misses me despite how we almost meet every day-”

Kuroo barely registered the pain when the cat he was swaying around a bit his wrist. Blood dripped from the two puncture wounds in his skin. The stray cat was probably jealous of another kitten in his life, Kuroo deduced as exhaustion and darkness engulfed his adrenaline-filled day.

* * *

> **Diagnostics**

**01101001 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110011 01100001 01111001**

* * *

Like a cinematic film, the pictures in his dreams rolled with blurred specks and spots. Kuroo could hardly make out anything as the scenes shifted too fast for his liking. His head was spinning, chasing those meaningless cut-outs despite being forced to watch this movie. Kuroo was able to catch glimpses of  _ things _ , things he’s not sure what meant.

A volleyball court at an ordinary high school in the city. A red and white jersey uniform, the number 01 printed front and back. Another man, a close friend, wearing the same jersey, number 05. He can’t see their faces but in every panel, they were always together.

The scene changes, they’re not playing volleyball anymore. Instead, they rode the train and walked home together. The height difference was showing, the photos clearing its dots and blurs, the other man had long hair tipped in blonde.

Kuroo extended his hand to reach out but he had no hand. He was only an overseer here as the pictures slid helplessly, forming a story of sorts. These two high school boys who can’t be separated in the hip. They stop by the bakery to buy some apple and mackerel pie, Kuroo managed to read. Yet why was there a big blotch on the short and tall fellows’ faces? 

The sun was setting in the background, the two athletes strolling from the subway station. The shorter guy was fiddling with a handheld device, which Kuroo dumbfoundedly realized was a gaming gadget. The orange sun hits their skins, the two slow in their pace. Their heads turned, and everything transitioned clearer as they gazed at each other.

“ _ Kenma! _ ” Kuroo screamed as the identity of the two players, 01 and 05 was revealed beneath the sunset sky of the city. He panted heavily, hand hitting his own chest to alleviate the pain of his thundering heartbeat.

His  _ heart _ hurts. Fuck, he didn’t feel like this ever since...ever since when?

Those two men from his dreams...were him and Kenma? Like living a different life where they both grew up together. Strange, so fucking strange. They were playing volleyball together, and they were both good. He stared at his hands, flawless and innocent from any sport because he only spent tinkering with chemicals...Wait, that’s wrong.

His hands were shaking, as he bore holes in his wrist where the cat bit him. 

Should have bitten him.

He pushed the covers and comforters away, dashing towards his full-length mirror. Kuroo analyzed his reflected image, blood and a supposed scar gone. No trace.  _ A cat bit me, there was blood, I didn’t remember cleaning it up… _

The throbbing inside his chest was harder than before and Kuroo fell from his standing. It was too much, if Kuroo had his way, he’d slice his own ribs out to set this aching heart free.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

His vision blackened again, the sharp pain from his chest crawling up to his head. It reminded him of the feeling back at Starbucks, only Kenma’s touch grabbed him to reality again.

He was rolling on the carpeted floor, fingers grappling his hair until he could split his skull open. Which was not possible in any essence. Kuroo was thrashing on the floor, vivid memories engaging his brain. 

Kenma and his hand mannerisms, fingers drumming the table, or holding a pen to write ( _ fingers pressing the buttons, or holding a console tight) _ . Kenma and his novel protagonist who had a childhood neighbor friend until high school ( _ the two high school boys in the dream, in the sunset, him and Kenma).  _

He probably jerked his feet off a table, since the contact sent another addled pain. Something loud thumps beneath him, Kuroo’s hand grasped for it, trying to clutch onto  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ that may ground him from the overwhelming information in his mind. 

His touch senses memorized the surface of his phone, his eyesight blearily open. Kuroo was acting upon the panic mode, thumb tapping emergency contact.

“It... _ it hurts...so damn much _ .”

His whole body shudders, and his consciousness shuts down.

_ Did I even have emergency contact? _

* * *

_ “Kuro.” _

_ “Yes, kitten?” _

_ “The childhood friends in my story already had an ending.” _

_ “Pray tell.” _

_ “The one who died...knew they’re in an illusionary world. He finds out it’s fake and begs the other to return to the reality where he’s not alive.” _

_ “Isn’t that how it should go?” _

_ “...” _

_ “I want to give them a happy ending where the other didn’t find out.” _

* * *

When Kuroo woke up from his slumber, his first sight was of Kenma cradling his head in his lap. Kuroo was overflowing with recognition and memories, his palm caressing Kenma’s cheek. Of course, he had no emergency contact, his call may have been converted into a push notification of Kenma’s application. 

He glanced at the digital clock, the time inaccurate from the constant switching of numbers from  **_10:01, 01:17,_ ** and  **_01:01_ ** . Kuroo only had a few minutes left, if his own sense of time was a reliable measurement.

The rain was pouring in his window, the droplets unmasking its true form. 01100111 01100001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101111 01110110 01100101 01110010. Because that’s how it was, since from the beginning.

His hand that was on Kenma’s cheek was the one where the black cat had bitten him. The expected scar wasn’t there, only dotted glitches. Kenma gripped it with his fingers - _ real, alive _ .

“How many...how many times have you done this?” Kuroo whispered. His designed apartment was disintegrating into the blank expanse of whiteness. 

“Why do you always find out? Why can’t you even live longer?!” Kenma cried, and Kuroo was glad his kinesthetic processors were highly functioning. His algorithm was meticulously made to wipe Kenma’s tears and sadness away. That was his purpose of being.

“Because I was never alive in the first place, Kenma.” 

Kuroo himself knew what he was. A failed experiment.

He was an artificial intelligence crafted by a genius computer scientist. Kozume Kenma was able to input the personality core of his dead childhood friend Kuroo Tetsurou in a simulation. A virtual reality where the world continued on for Kuroo, whose future was stolen too early from a fatal illness.

“I wouldn’t...The real Kuroo won’t want this.”

He was a character from a game Kenma was lost in. They’re living in this illusionary technology set up by the genie from the novel. He was the protagonist’s dead childhood neighbor in Kenma’s role-playing virtual reality. He was what Kenma programmed and optimized him to be. 

Maybe that’s why everything and everyone was  _ quick  _ and  _ passing by _ . Maybe that’s why Kenma was utterly  _ real  _ and  _ natural _ . 

“ _ Kuro, please _ , I can’t stop! You shouldn’t have died, you were young! You were the only one there for me!” Kenma was sobbing, embracing his body for all the warmth he could impossibly provide. 

Kuroo..no,  _ AI Kuro _ was relieved the numbness had only swum in his thighs. He can still revel in the fact that Kenma was hugging his upper torso before he permanently disappears.

“Kenma...Aren’t you tired?” He can’t hear his voice anymore, nor Kenma’s desperate cries. 

Aural sensors cracked. Visual processors damaged as his periphery was shadowed in black and white. No golden eyes, no blonde hair, only lines and silhouettes of the figure who resisted his inevitable fate. 

Funny how Kozume Kenma, the god of this world, was the only one inescapable of its fate. Still, despite how he was only an imitation projected from a dead person, Kuroo prayed. He prayed in this imaginary world that he’d done his purpose, the objective of his existence. He prayed Kenma would realize that despite their situation, everything that happened between them was real. Because Kuroo knew from his personality algorithm and transferred memories, AI Kuro concluded how the real Kuroo Tetsurou loves Kenma. 

Before the artificial intelligence which inhibited Kuroo Tetsurou’s character patterns completely dissipated, he inputs a series of commands before he exploded in binary letters to join the crashing program. 

01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00001010

There was only white afterward.

* * *

Kenma was shedding nonstop tears when he shoved his custom made VR headset off his face. His head throbs with pain, both from radiation and traumatic simulation. He had gone through the same event, but it never leaves him unbothered.

He reviewed the important notes he observed during his experience in the program.  _ Not yet perfect. I need to change the system...I need to…. _

Kenma barely heard Akaashi’s footsteps, dropping off a bento box by his door. Never speaking, not even a gratitude. No, Kenma was still upset. Akaashi had blamed him for Bokuto being a wreck after they tried the simulation together. It was a success, because multiple people can enter his virtual reality. Why can’t Akaashi see that? Shouldn’t he be glad Bokuto was able to meet Kuroo again?

His fingers were skidding through the keyboard, typing codes mercilessly in the program, and Kuro’s AI. Rebooting, configuring, updating, and diagnosing....until the final step.

* * *

> **Restart**

**_Initialize Project Black Cat ver. 11.1.7?_ **

**_> Yes._ ** ****

**_Rebooting Project Black Cat._ ** **_  
  
_ **

* * *

**01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01101011 01110101 01110010 01101111**

**Author's Note:**

> I may write part two, explaining Kenma's side: What really happened in "reality". Depends really. 
> 
> Easter Eggs: try converting the numbers, they are binary code. It can be translated into text.
> 
> I discussed a lot with my sister who's an engineer about the laws of thermodynamics and god, it was so embarrassing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave kudos and comments below if you like it!  
> Follow my twitter account [@ziasann](https://twitter.com/ziasann) for more HQ memes and shenanigans.  
> Subscribe to my tumblr account [ziasann](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ziasann) for more HQ drabbles and stories.


End file.
